


The Lights Went Out

by QueenOfNewOrleans22



Category: Bon Jovi (Band)
Genre: Angst, Claustrophobia, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:41:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29210547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfNewOrleans22/pseuds/QueenOfNewOrleans22
Summary: Richie gets stuck in an elevator with a guy who has claustrophobia.
Relationships: Jon Bon Jovi/Richie Sambora
Comments: 8
Kudos: 20





	The Lights Went Out

Richie leaned against the wall, his arms crossed loosely over his chest as he felt the elevator rumble and then smooth to a stop. His feet ached, and he wanted for nothing more than to just stumble into bed, but that, evidently, wouldn't happen, because life obviously had it in for him. Richie scoffed at himself, biting on the edge of his thumbnail as he watched the doors open slowly, hoping that it wouldn't be the annoying girl from the third floor. ' _What's her name? Jenna?'_ Richie didn't know, he just hoped that they wouldn't get stuck together. 

It wasn't even midnight. If Richie's watch was correct, and he hadn't been given a reason to doubt it, it was 1:36, and Richie should've been in bed a long, long time ago, but then he'd been given an overtime shift and then he'd gotten stuck in traffic, and it hadn't hampered his walking abilities, but that asshole who went over the puzzle while he was getting out of his car in the parking lot and had gotten Richie all soaked hadn't helped him any. 

Thankfully, Richie's clothes were beginning to dry. Not thankfully? The elevator was taking forever. 

A young man hurriedly jogged into the elevator. He glanced at Richie, who gave him a friendly smile, and then pressed one of the buttons, retreating to the other corner. His blonde hair was mussed and wild, and he pressed himself against the wall as the doors closed and the elevator resumed its journey. 

Richie closed his eyes, imagining a hot shower, a meal that he hadn't bought from the vending machine, a warm, comfy bed, alone, in his cozy little apartment. 

And then there was a horrible rumbling noise and, when Richie's eyes popped open, he found himself staring into the pitch blackness of the void. His heart dropped, and he suddenly realized that he wouldn't be able to collapse into bed just yet, because now he was trapped in an elevator and there was no bed in the fucking elevator. 

"Fuck." Richie breathed out, walking foward, one of his hands dragging against the walk until he hit a corner. The single red button seemed like a beacon in the darkness, and Richie pressed it. He hoped that whoever was in charge of such things would come soon, but supposed that an elevator wasn't _such_ a bad place to be stuck in. 

Until he heard somebody's breath hitch, and it wasn't his. 

Richie looked up with a frown. "Hey. It's fine. Somebody's gonna come along, and we'll be out of here in no time." He said, and he felt the confidence in his words, but it didn't seem to calm the nerves of the blond man who was standing somewhere else in the elevator, invisible in the darlness. 

"O - o - _kayyy."_ The other man said in a high-pitched, panicked voice. 

Or it might not be such an easy situation, because Richie was stuck in the elevator with somebody who was either afraid of the dark, or claustrophobic, both of which weren't very good options. "I'm serious, man. Just give it like five minutes. We'll be out of here, no problemo." Richie continued, sensing that the other didn't believe him. 

The man's breath hitched again. "Okay." He repeated. 

But then a minute passed, and nobody came. Two minutes passed. Richie stared at his watch and didn't say a word, knowing that he would only worsen the growing panic of the man beside him, and only wondered, vaguely, how long they'd have to wait. Most of America was asleep, and Richie suddenly thought about the probability of the button being broken. 

A strange gasping noise could be heard, and Richie's heart rate shot up, having temporarily forgotten that there was another person in the elevator with him, and that, in the darkness, there wasn't a demented creature gasping and crawling toward him to eat his soul. 

"It's only been three minutes." Richie pointed out weakly. 

"Ohgod _ohgodohgod."_ The man whimpered. His breathing sped up, not quite to hyperventilation but to where he was panting uncomfortably, gasping for breath but unable to get any. 

Richie winced. "Just breath, man, okay?" He said, but his words seemed to be drowned out in the sudden sea of fear. 

There was a small banging noise, and then what sounded like a whimper, like a wounded puppy, and then the panting sped up. " _We'regonnafuckingdie."_ The man whispered hoarsely. 

"Just an elevator, buddy." Richie said, taking a hesitant step forward, feeling for the walls to guide him along in the darkness, although his eyes were just beginning to adjust. "Seven feet wide, okay? S'not closing in on you...or whatever."

But the words did nothing, their meagre effects lost as the man began to hyperventilate, a sound that made Richie's skin crawl. He felt like he was in a horror movie, and his mind blanked out, because suddenly, he had no idea what the fuck to do. 

Richie knew that he couldn't just let the other man have a panic attack, alone, but also had no idea what to say or do. His legs hit a bony knee, and the harsh breathing became much louder. "Hey. What's your name?" Richie asked, slowly sitting down on the ground, figuring that it'd be better than him crouching. 

There was no answer. 

Blindly, Richie reached out, hoping to grab the man's shoulders, but he hit hair instead, and then his hands fell to a rest on either side of the man's face. Better than nothing, Richie figured. "Hey. What's your name?" He asked. 

"J - _Jon."_ The man said, swallowing harshly. He was sweating, or maybe he was crying. Richie couldn't tell, especially not in the darkness. 

"Really? I have a cousin named Jon." Richie did not have a cousin named Jon. In fact, he didn't even know anybody else named Jon, but he figured that such an easy lie would help calm Jon's nerves. "My name's Richie. 'You know anybody named Richie, huh?" Richie asked. 

A frantic nod was the only answer for a long moment. "It's d - dark it's fucking dark." Jon said desperately, his tone not a whisper yet not quite loud enough to be heard without Richie having to strain himself. 

"Yeah. But soon, your eyes should adjust." Richie said, briefly thinking about how close they were, despite being mere strangers in a bad situation, and then he moved one of his hands, traveling downwards, hitting a thin jacket and a shirt, feeling Jon's heart beating fast and hard against his ribcage.

Richie was mildly surprised that Jon's heart hadn't beaten a hole from his chest. 

"Just imagine that you're on a beach." Richie said. "Like, in the Bahamas or whatever, some place where you'll never be able to afford in real life. Imagine the sun on your face, some girl in a bikini. Maybe a Piná Colada. Do you like those? I do, and I don't even like coconut." Richie didn't even know what he was talking about now, but it felt right to just talk. 

A sharp, strangled laugh sounded, and Jon shook his head. "W - what the fuck are you talking about?" He asked. 

Richie grinned. "You imagining yourself on a beach, yet?" 

"Hard to - to imagine myself on a beach w - with a girl in a bikini with some guy's hands on my face." Jon was back to panting now, and Richie laughed, some of his own anxiety melting away. 

"Sorry." Richie said, and he moved his hands to Jon's shoulders. "Just trying to make sure you don't die." He added with a smile. 

Jon grasped for Richie's hands, and his grip was tight. "Thanks, Richie." He said. 

Unless Richie was imagining things, Jon sounded like he was smiling, and he was pretty good at those types of things. "No problem." He said, feeling something in his chest that he didn't want to admit felt like like his heart fluttering. 

Suddenly, the lights flickered on, and there was a rumbling motion as the elevator began to move again. Richie blinked, his eyes burning, suddenly realizing that he was staring right at Jon's pale, wide-eyed face. He wasn't smiling, no, but he was blushing. 

"You look cute when you're all flustered." Richie said, and, later on, he would claim that he hadn't thought when he'd said those words, but, oh, he'd thought, and he'd meant it. 

Jon frowned. "Hypocrite." 


End file.
